


feel it on the way home

by liquidsky



Series: that ends well to end up with you [3]
Category: IT - Stephen King
Genre: M/M, Marriage Proposal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-18
Updated: 2019-09-18
Packaged: 2020-11-02 08:22:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20682584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liquidsky/pseuds/liquidsky
Summary: Richie proposes. Or, well, he tries to.





	feel it on the way home

**Author's Note:**

> half the usual snark, double the usual clownery.

Richie’s fingers were busy tracing little patterns across Eddie’s back when the telephone rang, so he categorically decided upon just ignoring it, continuing his path up Eddie’s shoulder blades instead. Eddie made a soft humming noise against Richie’s thigh, and Richie sighed, 

“Should I answer it?” 

Eddie hummed again, the warmth of his breath making the hair on Richie’s arms stand on end. Richie used his nails, and Eddie wiggled comfortably in a familiar way that meant he was settling in for the long haul. 

Richie grinned, “Taking that as a no,” 

“Good,” Eddie told him, and Richie glanced down in time to see him close his eyes and smile. 

– 

Richie had pretty much developed an addiction to lying uselessly in bed with Eddie, watching old comedy specials on his phone while Eddie read his comics, nudging their feet together every so often. Their routine was comfortable, and had Richie been anyone else, he would’ve found it too easy. Being as it was, though, he found it just right – they were used to each other in a way people hardly ever were, unless they’d grown up together, which, conveniently, they had. Richie reaccustomed himself to Eddie’s silences, and he knew just when or how to break them just as well as he knew when not to. It was the easiest dance of his life, simply because it was the one he’d already known all the steps to, even if he had forgotten. 

He learned bit by bit that Eddie was pretty fucking used to him as well, and though Eddie was nearly always pushing, he never did it in the wrong times. Eddie’s steps, even more obviously than Richie’s, never really faltered, and he matched Richie effortlessly, circling around him as though they had never once fallen out of orbit. 

They had been lying side by side when Eddie shoved his comic book to the side in favor of staring at the ceiling and muttering a loud, “Fuck.”

It had been right then that Richie realized he was ready. 

– 

He looked at rings. He also looked at Eddie’s fingers, more than usual, mentally measuring them and failing every time because he had never been that good at math. 

Richie was surprised at how relaxed he felt about the whole thing. He was asking Eddie to marry him, and he wasn’t nervous about whether Eddie would say yes as much as he was about finding a ring that fit.

On a last ditch effort, he had stopped by a supplies store on his way home from the station one evening, and waited until they had been half tangled in each other on the couch to tie a knot around Eddie’s fingers. 

Eddie looked down at the red wool, “What the fuck?”

“It’s, uh–” Richie struggled, before deciding to tie the other end around his own finger and lift it up awkwardly, “Red string of fate, you know.”

“You–” Eddie blinked at him, then down again. “Okay.”

Unexpectedly, he leaned more heavily into Richie instead of undoing the knots, shifting up so he could press a lingering kiss to Richie’s lips. 

– 

Richie bought the ring, an understated silver band that had stared back at him insistently from the other side of the glass windows. 

– 

“I’m asking Eddie to marry me,” Richie stated, every word very well enunciated. 

On the other side of the line, Bill laughed, “Huh-hi, Richie.”

“Hi,” Richie said, “I’m asking Eddie to marry me tonight.”

“Good,” answered Bill, and Richie stopped pacing around the kitchen to concentrate on whatever he said next. “Where?”

Richie paused, “Here. At home.”

“Okay.”

“Why? Do you think I should do it somewhere else?”

“You’re th-the Eddie expert, Rich.”

“I’m doing it at home,” Richie said, “Eddie doesn’t like crying in public.”

Bill snorted, “You think he’s guh-gonna cry?”

“He’d better,” Richie muttered. He stopped then, “I should totally make him fucking cry in public.”

“That’s what I thought you were gonna say,” Bill laughed, and Richie let him go so he could call for reservations. 

– 

Richie had always been the kind to overcompensate by joking around too much, poking fun at anyone who dared as much as breathe next to him, though he would just as frequently poke fun at himself. Generally speaking, it was pretty clear that Richie had never been the most confident person in the room, even if he always fucking acted like it. 

That being said, he had been confident about this, which had been his first mistake. 

He had made the reservation, put on his favorite black pants, put the ring in his pocket, gone to the kitchen, made coffee, spilled coffee all over his pants, taken off the pants, put the pants into the hamper, put on new pants. He had left the house, too, fully intending on picking Eddie up at work, and he had, auspiciously fast, which meant that by eight-thirty they were sitting by one of those schmoozy aquariums in a similarly schmoozy fucking restaurant, and Richie decided just then to stand up and drop back down to his knees in front of Eddie. 

Eddie made a weird choking noise in the back of his throat, and Richie stared up at him feeling like absolute hot shit as well as feeling too overwhelmed with love and gratitude to do anything but smile dopily at Eddie’s wide-eyes. Eddie blinked at him, both of his eyes growing very obviously teary, and Richie shoved a hand in his pocket only to feel nothing that felt even remotely like a ring. He swallowed, pulling his hand out and patting around his crotch, legs and ass in a way that looked fucking ridiculous in his position. As the seconds ticked by, Eddie stared at him, his emotional expression bleeding first into a frown, then a scowl. 

“You have got to be kidding me,” he said, glancing from the corner of his eye at the considerable number of people that had turned to watch Richie’s little proposal and were now suspiciously quiet. “You’re fucking with me.”

“Shit,” Richie grimaced, “I fucking–I spilled coffee on my pants earlier and I guess I–” 

Eddie rubbed a hand over his face, “Holy shit.”

“Fuck,” laughed Richie, nervously and super fucking ridiculously until Eddie glared at him and he snapped his lips shut. “Sorry, I–” 

“Just so you know, because it’s fucking important to me that you know this,” Eddie started, “I fully fucking plan on marrying you one day, but I’m not saying yes until you sort your shit out.”

Richie winced again, knees creaking loudly as he struggled to his feet, “Fucking noted.”

– 

Eddie retrieved Richie’s pants from the hamper when they got home, throwing the box to him over the back of the couch and rolling his eyes when Richie caught it. 

– 

Richie tried again three days later when they were out for coffee, palms sweating and heart in his throat, but Eddie only stared at him with raised eyebrows. 

“This is a fucking Starbucks.”

– 

He tried again at Ben and Bev’s Fourth of July party, weeks later, kneeling on the grass in their backyard and staring up at Eddie as fireworks exploded in the sky. 

Eddie laughed, pulling Richie up into a kiss but handing the box back to him when he leaned away. 

– 

Richie tried again mid-fuck a few days after that, then again in Bill’s guest bathroom on a Saturday night get together, and one more time in the park on a Tuesday morning. 

Eddie said no everytime, looking too amused and fond for Richie to really worry about it. 

– 

Richie took him out to a fancy garden restaurant one Thursday evening, and Eddie still said no. 

– 

Sunday nights were for contemplation, Richie found, ever since Eddie had officially declared Richie’s bedroom _theirs_. He liked the calm of hearing Eddie puttering around in the bathroom, and he liked tangling their bodies together when Eddie finally joined him on the bed, their legs pressed together, front to back, Eddie smelling warm and feeling soft under Richie’s wandering hands. They stayed like that, just about every Sunday, drifting in and out of conversation and taking each other in. 

“What do you think goes into the house spread at Monty’s Good Burger?” Eddie mused, out of fucking nowhere, pulling Richie closer to him by the wrists.

Richie stared at the back of his head for an eternity, and Eddie wiggled lightly. 

“Fucking earth to Tozier,” he said, and Richie blinked, shifting back until he could reach his bedside table.

Eddie made a questioning noise, and Richie shuffled back into him, pressing himself even closer, sliding his arms around him and placing the box on Eddie’s palm. 

“Now?” Eddie asked. 

Richie nuzzled the back of his neck, breathing him in, “Right here. My shit’s as together as it’ll ever be.”

“Okay,” Eddie told him, turning in his arms and pressing a kiss to the tip of Richie’s nose. “I’m saying yes, then.”

“Took you fucking long enough,” Richie muttered, and Eddie grinned. 

“That was all you.”

**Author's Note:**

> i'm gonna be super fucking obnoxious and have every single title be from a taylor swift song. this time it's from _you are in love_.


End file.
